Someone I Used To Know
by Celica60
Summary: In Stoneybrook for the summer, Dawn embarks on an unlikely fling. CoAuthored with Blanket Apologist.
1. Chapter 1

**Someone I Used To Know**

**Summary:**In Stoneybrook for the summer, Dawn embarks on an unlikely fling.

**Rating:** Teen for mild language and adult situations.

**Disclaimer:** We don't own the BSC. But we do own you.

**Author's Note:** Since **Blanket Apologist** is visiting for the Martin Luther King three-day weekend, we decided it was time to write a collaborative BSC fanfic. This was the sanest of our ideas. (Watson/Sam, anyone?) Our story takes place pre-_The Fire At Mary Anne's House. _California Diaries and Friends Forever are not included in our personal canon.

* * *

August in Stoneybrook. 

Not exactly how I envisioned the end of my summer. Honestly, I'd much rather be in California, hanging out at the beach with my real friends. I don't belong in Stoneybrook anymore. The girls I once felt so close to, now I feel I hardly know at all. Especially my stepsister. Last year, I considered her my best friend. I'm not sure we're even friends anymore. It's surprising how much people change in less than a year. Neither of us are the same girls we were when I left Stoneybrook.

I arrived in Stoneybrook five days ago and only yesterday learned that Mary Anne and Logan broke up at the end of June. Real friends are supposed to tell each other that sort of thing. It's not that hard to pick up a phone. But I guess Mary Anne had already found another shoulder to cry on. She replaced me with some girl named Melissa Banks, a loud, pesky, screechy sort of girl, who talks nonstop and takes up all the space in a room. Mary Anne shrinks out of sight in her presence but doesn't seem to mind. When I sit in my room, I hear them down the hall, Melissa's ear piercing shrieks and Mary Anne's laughter in reply. I'm never invited to join them.

It's not like I'm bitter or anything.

I've only been in Stoneybrook for five days, but that's five days too long. I'm spending a lot of time by myself. I've lost touch with my old Stoneybrook friends. And they've lost interest in me. Kristy and Abby are busy coaching Kristy's softball team, Stacey's on vacation with her father, and Claudia's spending a lot of time locked in her room being moody and artistic. And Mallory and Jessi? What are we going to do? Play horses? So, I have no one but myself. Even Jeff has the Pike triplets.

It's Thursday afternoon and I'm browsing through the folk music section at Sound Ideas. I've spent a lot of time here this week. The employees and I are getting to be on a first name basis. I think they pity me. It's depressing.

I'm checking out a Nick Drake tape when the bell above the front door chimes. I'm usually the only customer around this time, so I glance up out of curiosity. At this point, I dread recognizing old friends from SMS and the awkward small talk that follows, so I'm relieved to see it's only Charlie Thomas.

Charlie is Kristy's oldest brother. I know he'll be starting at Penn State in the fall. That's one of the few things Mary Anne has told me. She didn't tell me--or maybe I just never noticed--how cute he's become. Charlie's a nice guy and always helped us out in the BSC and I guess I'm feeling lonelier than I want to admit because I immediately decide to corner him into a conversation.

"Hi Charlie!" I exclaim, sounding a bit desperate.

Charlie looks up from a rack of new Insects tapes and furrows his brow in puzzlement. For a moment, my stomach drops and I feel color creep into my cheeks.

He doesn't remember me. Add that to my long list of humiliations.

Slowly, he smiles, recognition lighting his eyes. "Dawn?" he asks, then smiles wider. "I almost didn't recognize you! You look so different,"

"Is that good or bad?" I ask, feeling the color spread down my neck.

"It's good. Kristy still looks like she should be playing in the sandbox. Come to think of it, I think she still does," Charlie laughs. "I didn't expect any of her friends to look so grown up."

"California living does that to you," I reply with a casual toss of my hair. Then I realize how stupid I sound and blush even deeper. I've talked to Charlie a million times before and ridden countless times in his car, but suddenly I feel very nervous and self-conscious. I wish I'd worn more than just lip gloss and mascara. I wish I'd worn more than just an old t-shirt and a pair of ratty jean shorts.

"Great tan," he says. "I should have applied to school in California, we don't get color like that here."

"Yeah, it's like a different planet here. I feel like I'm living in a house full of Martians."

"Not so good to be back?" he asks.

I toss my hair over my shoulder and shrug. "You know, people change. I'm not the same girl I was in junior high."

Charlie raises his eyebrows. "Yeah... So, have you heard the new Insects album?"

I'm surprised by the change in subject until I realize how I must come across to Charlie. Am I flirting with Kristy Thomas' brother? Does he _think_ I'm flirting with him? I'm just some lame high school kid and an old friend of his sister. He's just being polite and I'm making an ass of myself.

"Nah, they're not my style," I reply, still trying to sound casual, despite my complete and utter humiliation.

"I just came in to buy their new tape," Charlie says, waving the tape in his hand. "Maybe I could give you a ride home and change your mind."

"Sure," I say with hesitation, though inside my chest is tightening. What does this mean? He's just being polite, right?

Charlie and I walk up to the register. He whips out his wallet, pulls out a crisp ten dollar bill and slides it across the counter. I fumble around with a display of buttons, pretending that my stomach's not doing back flips. Even though he looks so cool, I wonder if he is nervous too. Or maybe I'm just so bored and lonely that I'm reading between lines that aren't there.

Charlie holds the door open for me as we leave Sound Ideas. I look around for the Junk Bucket as Charlie leads me into the parking lot. I still haven't found it when Charlie stops next to a silver Volvo.

"Where's the Junk Bucket?" I ask.

"Watson finally caved in and bought me a new car, the cheap bastard," Charlie says as he unlocks my door.

"Things not so good at home?"

Charlie smiles. "Martians, you know."

It's a short drive to my house, but Charlie drives slow. We make small talk the entire way but it isn't awkward like with other people I used to know. I'm sorry when he pulls into our driveway because it's been the best half hour since I returned to Stoneybrook.

"How long are you in town for?" Charlie asks as I open the car door.

I wonder if he plans to make Kristy call me. I don't need him strong-arming Kristy into being my friend. But maybe that's not what he's thinking.

"I leave the first of September."

"I guess I'll see you around, then," he says and gives a small wave.

I shut the car door and offer a wave as he backs down the drive. Then I turn around quickly in case he's not interested like I want him to be. I'm barely up the steps when my stepfather, Richard, throws open the front door.

"What are you doing home from work so early?" I ask in surprise.

Richard ignores my question and demands, "Was that Charlie Thomas?"

"Yeah," I reply, even though I know Richard hates the word "yeah."

"What were you doing with him?"

I can see where this is going. He isn't my father. I hate when he tries acting like he is. He can't control me like he does Mary Anne.

"Getting a ride home," I reply irritably.

"He's too old for you."

I step past him into the foyer. I'm ready for this conversation to be over. "It was just a ride home," I tell him.

"You are only fourteen years old, Dawn. He is eighteen. You aren't even in high school yet and he's already going off to college."

"Well then, I better return the engagement ring," I say dryly, heading for the front stairs.

"Excuse me, young lady, I don't know how you speak to your parents in California, but that kind of disrespect will not be tolerated in my house," he barks, tugging authoritatively on his brown cardigan.

"Do you not tolerate a sense of humor either?" I ask rolling my eyes.

Richard's jaw drops, as if no one has ever challenged him before. No surprise, with perfect Mary Anne for a daughter. He takes off his glasses and wipes the lenses. "I hope you can retain that charming sense of humor while you're grounded this weekend," he says coolly.

"It's not like I wouldn't be sitting around the house anyway."

"I'm glad you're pleased with this arrangement then," Richard replies, then turns and walks into the kitchen.

I stomp up the stairs. "I can't wait to get back to California," I mutter under my breath. When I reach the top of the stairs I hear Mary Anne and Melissa giggling like idiots in Mary Anne's bedroom. I pound on the door as I pass and shout, "Shut the hell up, you morons!"

I get to my room and slam the door shut. Then I slam it again for effect. I bury my face in my hands and collapse on my bed. Three and a half more weeks of this.

There's a soft knock on the door. "What's wrong?" Mary Anne calls.

"You should know!" I shout back.

Mary Anne doesn't reply, but I hear her breathing on the other side of the door, shifting from one foot to the other. Finally she gives up and walks down the hall. Her bedroom door shuts behind her.

I don't hesitate on my next move. I pick up the phone and dial the Thomas-Brewer phone number. Richard can yell at me, Mary Anne can exclude me, but no one can tell me who I can't date. I'm sick of wasting what's left of my summer. I might be stuck in Stoneybrook, but I don't have to be stuck alone.

"Hello, is Charlie home yet?" I ask when Karen answers the phone.

"Hold on, I think he just walked in the door," she replies in her most grown up voice. She sets the phone down and screams, "Charlie! It's one of your goony-boony girlfriends!"

"Hello?" Charlie says smoothly when he comes on the line.

"Hi, Charlie. This is Dawn. Dawn Schafer," I say, surprised at how calm I feel. My nerves aren't rattling around like I expected.

"Oh, hi Dawn, long time no see," Charlie says with a chuckle. "Did you leave something in my car?"

"No, no. I was just wondering, do you have plans tonight?"

"Tonight? No..." he replies, sounding a bit confused.

"I need to escape the Martians. How about you?"

Charlie is silent on the other end. Suddenly my heart begins to pound as I fully realize what I've just done. I asked Kristy's brother out on a date. I'm only fourteen. Charlie couldn't possibly be interested in me. He's practically an adult. Have I overstepped some kind of boundary? And do I really care?

"Where do you want to escape to?" he finally answers.

"Washington Mall. Is six good for you?"

Four years is nothing. I am from California, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Mom comes home from work at five-thirty and I hear her talking to Richard downstairs. His voice raises with every word. I roll my eyes and continue throwing clothes out of my closet. In the past when I've been interested in boys I've changed my appearance to suit them. I'm not going to do that this time. Everyone always says that I'm such an individual; it's time I started acting like one. If Charlie likes me, then he likes me. 

Before today I'd never given Charlie Thomas a second thought. I wonder if my sudden attraction to him is purely out of boredom or loneliness. If Richard hadn't objected, I probably wouldn't have even called him. I don't want to be one of those girls who dates guys out of spite. 

I'm pulling on a denim skirt when someone knocks on the door. 

"Go away!" I shout, assuming it's Mary Anne coming to bother me again. 

"It's me, honey," Mom calls out. 

"Oh. Come in." 

Mom opens the door and slips into the room. She's wearing one blue heel and one white heel. Her shirt is on inside out. Maybe Richard should be more concerned with getting Mom properly dressed in the morning and less concerned with my personal life. 

"Have a nice chat with Richard?" I ask coolly as I button the front of my shirt. 

"He's just worried about you, Dawn." 

"It's not like I got picked up on the side of the road by some stranger. It's _Charlie Thomas_, Mom. He just gave me a ride home." 

"I know that, Dawn. You know how protective Richard is. And he _is_ your stepfather. You need to show him some respect, but Richard needs to learn to trust in your judgement. You're not a little girl anymore." Mom sits down on the bed and picks up some of my discarded clothes. "Are you going out? I thought Richard grounded you." 

I shrug and start picking through my jewelry box, searching for the perfect pair of earrings. "I bumped into Sue Archer downtown today. We already made plans to see a movie." 

Mom sighs. "I don't want to be caught in the middle of you and Richard. I'm not going to lift your grounding, but I'm glad you're staying in touch with your old friends. I want you to feel like Stoneybrook is home too.," Mom says, then hesitates. "I'll cover for you tonight." 

"Thanks, Mom," I say, although I planned to go out with or without her permission. I feel bad lying to her, but there's only so much she would keep from Richard. She might not mind me getting rides from Charlie Thomas, but she would feel differently if she knew he was taking me out tonight. 

"I'll let you finish getting ready, sweetheart," Mom says, standing up. She kisses me on the forehead and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. 

I brush my hair until it's smooth and shiny, then put on some dusty pink eyeshadow and freshen my lip gloss. At five-fifty I quietly walk down the stairs. I hear Mom, Richard and Mary Anne in the kitchen, talking softly, their silverware clinking against their plates. I slip out the front door and hurry down the driveway, hoping Richard or Mary Anne don't spot me from the window. I wait for Charlie at the corner of Burnt Hill and High Street. Shuttling Kristy to all those BSC meetings has taught Charlie about punctuality; I see his Volvo coming down the street at exactly one minute to six. I step off the curb and wave him over. 

"I could have picked you up at your house," Charlie tells me when I open the passenger side door. 

"I needed the fresh air," I say with a sigh. 

"Gotcha," Charlie says with a knowing smile. "That pretty much sums up my summer. There's so many people living in my house, sometimes it's hard to breathe." 

"I feel like that even when I'm alone in the house. I think it's Stoneybrook. Something about it is suffocating, like everyone's used up all the air." 

Charlie grins. "Good thing we're getting out for the night." 

We drive to the mall, and unlike this afternoon Charlie speeds along with his foot firmly on the accelerator. We turn the thirty minute drive to Stamford into a twenty minute one. I'm not sure if this is normal or if he's just trying to impress me. When we reach the mall, Charlie makes a sharp turn into a parking spot and screeches to a halt. 

"So where to?" Charlie asks me as we enter the mall. 

I glance around thinking, having not really thought about it before now. What does a couple do on a date at the mall? I can't really see Charlie and me browsing through the non-fiction section at The Bookcenter or trying on clothes at Steven E. We walk over to the mall map by the front doors and look at our options. 

"We could see a movie," Charlie suggests. 

"That's what everyone does. We need to do something fun," I reply, running my finger down the store directory. "Hey, there's a petting zoo on the third floor!" I exclaim. 

"How could you not know that? I thought you were all about animal rights. Kristy said you were one of those crazy environmentalists." 

"I haven't been here in a while," I say. I'm struck with sudden inspiration. "We should liberate those animals, Charlie! No animal should live in a shopping mall." 

Charlie laughs. "Sure, I'm down for some liberating. Operation: Animal Emancipation underway!" 

We're both laughing as we take the escalator to the third floor. By the time we reach the petting zoo I can barely walk, I'm laughing so hard. We attempt to put on straight faces as Charlie pays the admission fee. We wander around for a while, casing the zoo. The old man working the entrance looks at us suspiciously, like he's onto our scheme. 

"Look at these rabbits," Charlie whispers. "I bet I could fit a couple down my pants. How many do you think you could fit in your shirt?" 

I giggle and look down at my shirt as if to measure my under-shirt capacity. "I'd say three or four." 

"Well these lop-eared ones are pretty big, so we should go for these little Netherland dwarves." 

"Charlie Thomas, that's rabbit profiling!" I scold him. "Frankly, I'm shocked by your lack of sensitivity." This is the silliest date I've ever been on. 

"Okay, you're right," Charlie replies, reaching into the rabbit pen. He pulls out an enormous black and white lop and stuffs it under his navy blue rugby shirt. Then he starts walking toward the entrance taking long, exaggerated strides. 

The old man chuckles and says, "All right kids, put the rabbit back." Little does he know how serious we are. 

Charlie turns around and returns the rabbit to its pen. At this point I'm laughing so hard I'm doubled over. I have to leave the petting zoo. Charlie follows soon after, and the old man shakes his head as we leave. 

"I think that rabbit peed under my shirt! That's gratitude for you," Charlie tells me, as we head toward the escalator. 

"Maybe the liberation was a bad idea. Let's just get something to eat." 

"How about grilled rabbit?" Charlie says, as he sniffs the hem of his shirt. 

I punch him playfully in the arm and say, "How about just a salad?" 

"Oh you mean _ rabbit food_?" he asks, then laughs at his own joke. 

I roll my eyes and speed up my walk, like I am completely exasperated with him. Charlie increases his stride until he catches up with me. We walk a few more steps, then Charlie takes my hand in his. My heart quickens in my chest. Neither of us say anything, we just stare straight ahead, but I can't help smiling. 

When we reach the food court we spend a few minutes debating where to eat. We settle on Casa Grande, which has the best Mexican food in Connecticut. Charlie and I both order a number seven, cheese enchiladas with rice, and I insist on paying for my own meal. 

When our order comes up and we fill our drinks we sit down at one of the cozy plastic tables in the corner. We eat for a couple minutes in silence, then I ask, "Does Kristy know you're out with me?" 

Charlie hesitates and blushes. "Not...not exactly," he stammers. 

"Yeah, Richard would kill me if he knew I was out with you," I tell him, then think about it for a moment and correct myself. "No, he'd kill _you._" 

"Do you think I could take him?" 

I cock an eyebrow. "How many years did you live next door to him? What do you think?" 

"Seriously, though. Is he that tough on you?" Charlie asks as he takes a bite of his enchilada. 

I shrug. "He's okay as long as you don't step out of line. And his lines are drawn pretty close together. When Mom and Richard announced their engagement last year I never really thought about how it would really be to have him as a stepfather. I was so excited about being Mary Anne's stepsister. I loved the romantic idea of reuniting star-crossed lovers. I just never considered the reality of being part of a blended family. And the reality sucks." 

Charlie takes a sip of his soda and nods. It feels good to get that off my chest. 

Charlie looks up from his soda and says, "I know what you mean. When Mom and Watson got married I thought it would be a lot different. I thought I was getting a replacement dad, and we were all getting a second chance at a happy family. But Watson only acts like a dad when it's convenient for him. Sometimes I think his generosity is just a way to look good. He never even suggested buying me a car until the engine of the Junk Bucket blew up in the driveway. And he only offered because all the neighbors were standing around staring." 

I laugh. "Do you really think that's true?" 

"Sometimes I do, sometimes I'm not sure." 

"Well, at least we're both getting out of here at the end of summer." 

"I'm counting the days," Charlie says nonchalantly, then glances up with a funny look in his eye. I'm not sure what that look means, but Charlie changes the subject before I can overthink it. 

After we finish eating, Charlie and I walk upstairs to Cinema World and check out the features, but there's nothing either of us care to see. I'd rather spend my time talking, anyway, and I think he feels the same. So instead we walk around the mall for awhile. Charlie holds my hand the entire time. 

When we tire of mall walking we head back to the car and drive back into Stoneybrook. As soon as we're inside the city limits I tell Charlie that I'm not ready to go home yet. He isn't ready either. So we drive around town for awhile and somehow end up in the parking lot of Stoneybrook Elementary. Charlie turns off the engine and unlatches his seatbelt. For a minute we just sit there, not saying anything, staring out onto the dark playground. 

"Want to go on the monkey bars?" Charlie asks, with a small chuckle. 

"No," I reply. Then I unlatch my seatbelt and lean over. I don't give him a chance to meet me halfway, I just press my mouth onto his and slip my tongue between his lips. I'm not sure when I got to be so bold; my friend Sunny would be so proud. 

Charlie doesn't stop me and rests his hand on the small of my back and slides his tongue against mine. After a few minutes Charlie pulls away, his breath heavy. I can almost hear his heart pound in his chest. There is vague panic in his eyes. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, brushing my hair away from my face. 

"I keep remembering that you're only fourteen. I don't know if we should be doing this," he says a bit reluctantly. 

"It's only kissing." 

"And it's nice, but..." 

"You're thinking too hard," I say, and move in again. This time we kiss a little longer and I make my way down his neck, leaving a trail of kisses along his jawline. Charlie's hands tighten around my waist and I run my fingers through his hair. Before tonight I've only kissed a handful of boys, and never like this. I don't even know if I'm doing it right, but Charlie seems to like it. 

While I'm kissing his throat I attempt to readjust into a more comfortable position by swinging my leg over to straddle his waist. Unfortunately during the move I press up against the steering wheel, setting off the horn. Charlie laughs, until my leg slips and my knee presses into his groin. His eyes widen, like he suspects I did it intentionally. I'm not _that_ forward. 

"Dawn, we have to stop," Charlie says in an unconvincing tone. 

I know he's right. We really hardly know each other, and this is moving really fast. He's four years older than me and I haven't even begun high school. I'm completely inexperienced. This doesn't make sense at all. But I don't want to waste my time in Stoneybrook with nothing happening to me while everything happens to everyone else. Maybe it's finally my turn. 

"Do you really want to stop?" I ask, looking straight into his eyes. 

Charlie stares back at me, clearly thinking, then moves his hand down to the side of the driver's seat. He pushes the driver's seat back as far as it will go and then we recline. Charlie moves his hands back to my waist and pulls me toward him. I lower my lips to his, and this time he doesn't stop me. 

An hour later Charlie drops me off at the corner of Burnt Hill and High Street. Charlie's hair is rumpled so I reach over to smooth it out. He's the first boy I ever made out with, and it's surprising how hard it was to not go further than that. I'm not sure exactly what's come over me. Is this more than wanting excitement? 

Charlie leans over and kisses me softly. "Good night," he murmurs, then I get out of the car. Charlie sits in his car and watches me until I turn up my driveway. I walk quietly up the front steps and peer through the window. The lights are on but I don't see anyone moving inside. I slip soundlessly into the house and tiptoe toward the stairs, but it's an old house full of creaking floorboards that give me away. 

"Dawn, could you come in here please," Mom calls from the living room. 

I groan and throw my purse onto the stairs and trudge half-heartedly into the living room. Mom and Richard are sitting on the couch silently, staring straight ahead. Richard is frowning, with his hands folded in his lap. When I enter the room, Mom turns toward me, stretching her arm across the back of the couch. 

"So. Mary Anne tells us Sue Archer moved to Cincinnati in June," Mom tells me in a perfectly calm voice. "That's a long way to go to see a movie." 

Busted. 


	3. Chapter 3

Time moves quickly when it's running out. I blinked and a week passed in a blur of arguments, ultimatums, stolen kisses, and lies. I guess Charlie Thomas and I are dating. I'm not sure he's my boyfriend. We haven't discussed it, like sat down and spread out our feelings and expectations all over the kitchen table to analyze and dissect. I know we're not going to last beyond the summer. Charlie knows it too. I like him and he likes me, but in a few weeks, I go back to California and Charlie heads to college. It's not like I expect him to give me some kind of promise ring that I can flash in front of my California friends. I don't expect anything from Charlie, except to make me happy for awhile.

Mom and Richard don't know. Richard suspects and watches me with narrowed eyes, as if contemplating all the ways Charlie Thomas might corrupt me and then I, in turn, might possibly corrupt his precious daughter. I'm supposed to be grounded. Mom doesn't appreciate me lying to her and Richard works that to his advantage. So, indefinite grounding until I come clean about why I lied last Thursday. That grounding can't be enforced. Mom and Richard have work and I have all day to do as I please and see who I please. Mary Anne doesn't bother me either because Mary Anne's too busy babysitting and following around her new best friend to give me much thought.

Charlie comes over around noon on Thursday. Mary Anne's at an all day babysitting job for Rosie Wilder. Charlie and I have the house to ourselves. Charlie and I have spent a lot of time alone here this past week. We certainly couldn't get any privacy at his house. Charlie brings a bag of groceries, so we can make grilled avocado and cheese sandwiches. Charlie and I have made a lot of compromises regarding food. I'm not interested in enlightening him to the error of his meat eating ways, but I'd rather not see him chewing on animal flesh in my presence either.

"Hey," Charlie says, glumly, when I open the front door.

"Hi Charlie," I reply, a bit more cheerily, stepping aside to let him in. "Is something wrong?"

"Only if you consider a jerkoff stepfather something wrong,"

I sigh. "What has he done this time?" I ask, leading Charlie into the kitchen.

"Today he called me into his office at home and informed me that he doesn't think he'll be paying my tuition to Penn,"

"What?" I exclaim, turning away from the counter where I've begun slicing the cheese.

Charlie sits down at the kitchen table and lowers his head to his arms. "There's no way I can make the tuition on my own. Penn's only giving me a partial baseball scholarship and there's hardly any money left in my savings account. I didn't even bother getting a job this summer since I was taking those classes at Stoneybrook U. Watson promised I wouldn't have to worry, that he'd pay for everything. I'm so screwed, Dawn. "

"Why won't he pay?" I demand. "He's a millionaire!"

"He says I need to learn to stand on my own two feet. Handouts don't build character and I can't expect a free ride forever,"

"Nice of him to drop this on you three weeks before school starts!" I cry, my face turning red with anger. "And what free ride? You've only been a millionaire's stepkid for a year! What about all the years you helped your mom raise the kids? You deserve his money more than anyone else!"

Charlie shrugs. "Tell that to Watson,"

"Maybe I will," I reply, stabbing my knife into an avocado. "Or better yet, your _mom_ should tell him. What is she doing, sitting on the sidelines while he ruins your life?"

Charlie shrugs again, looking more defeated than angry, like he's already given up. "Watson's running the show over there. I told you before, he's generous when it's convenient."

I toss the first sandwich into the frying pan, then turn back to Charlie, giving him my full attention. "This is terrible, Charlie! And totally unfair. Watson's just plain cruel, if you ask me. Richard might be a tight ass, but he'd never promise something like this, then change his mind for no reason," I tell Charlie, sliding into the chair opposite him. I think of all the vacations Watson treated me to when I was part of the BSC. He was beyond generous without anyone asking him to be. Was it all just for show? Would Watson really do that for near strangers just to make himself look good? It seems extreme. "What does your mom say?" I ask Charlie. "She must have some kind of opinion."

"I don't know," says Charlie. "I'm not sure Watson even discussed it with her. I think he woke up this morning and thought, 'I think today I'll stomp on Charlie's future' and then went with it. I didn't want to upset Mom at work."

"Well then, don't worry, Charlie. Your mom won't let him do this to you. She'll change his mind. Or at least figure out a way to pay your tuition. She has a good job. And there's always student loans," I assure him, reaching across the table and grasping his hand. Charlie and I understand each other, how it is to live in an unbalanced, unfair family that fails to meet any past expectations.

Charlie smiles, but his eyes betray him. I haven't convinced him, which makes sense because I'm not convinced myself. "I should help with lunch," Charlie says, pushing his chair away from the table. He's finished talking about Watson.

Charlie and I stand together at the stove, turning the sandwiches over in the pan. The first one is kind of burnt, but Charlie eats it anyway. Then he eats two more. I have one and we sit together at the table, Charlie eating quickly while I slowly work on my single sandwich. We make a mutual silent agreement not to talk about stepfathers anymore, even though I'm practically bursting to complain about how Richard woke me this morning by flickering my light on and off (which I _hate_), then left me a long list of chores, like I'm his personal slave girl or something.

When we finish eating, I set our plates in the sink and put the cheese and leftover avocado in the fridge. Charlie's still sitting at the table, looking sad and vulnerable and much younger than eighteen. I slide onto his lap and tilt my head against his and hold his left hand in my right, stroking my thumb against his palm. After a few minutes, I bend my head down and press my lips to his throat. Charlie stiffens, like he always does when I first kiss him, then quickly relaxes. He can't get past that I'm only fourteen, which he mentions often, but still allows me to do to him the things I wish, as if my taking the lead somehow releases him from responsibility.

I move my lips around to the side of Charlie's neck and push aside the collar of his pale green polo shirt to kiss the curve between his neck and shoulder. I've discovered that's his favorite spot to be kissed. Charlie slips his hand underneath my t-shirt and runs it over my stomach, then around my back. His hand is surprisingly cold against my warm skin.

"Let's go upstairs," I whisper in Charlie's ear.

Charlie follows me up the narrow staircase to my bedroom. I lock the door behind us. We've spent a lot of time in here this past week, talking and making out on my bed. I've discovered that I am the type of girl I've always detested, the girl who loves kissing and panting breath and exploring hands. I've criticized and judged Sunny for all the same things I've done this week. I'm a girl possessed, like a part of me is on fire. I'm not sure where this girl came from, or if she's always been buried deep within me and I've been too afraid to set her free.

Charlie and I lay down on my bed, facing each other. He drapes an arm over my waist, and kisses me, his lips warm against mine. Pretty soon, Charlie pushes me onto my back and lays on top of me, his hands traveling up the front of my t-shirt. Next thing I know, he's lifting the t-shirt over my head. That's another thing I discovered about myself this week. I'm fast. I'm a fast girl. Probably no one could have predicted it, least of all myself. Maybe I'm not like this under normal circumstances. Maybe I just know that I have to cram so much into a short amount of time. Or maybe this is who I am, another aspect of that girl buried deep within me.

Charlie tosses my t-shirt onto the floor and begins kissing my collarbone. He's not as hesitant about making out with me as before. I wave the green flag once and he runs with it. Saturday I slid his hands up my blouse, Monday I unbuttoned my shirt, and Tuesday I took off my bra. Now he doesn't pause or ask. He does these things and knows I want them too. Maybe because I'm fast. And maybe because I've realized that feeling good can be reason enough.

Charlie reaches under me and unhooks my bra. He seems to be an expert at unhooking bras. I don't ask who he's practiced on. Instead I kiss him hard and quick, then fall back onto my pillow and close my eyes while he massages my breasts. Charlie's fascinated with my breasts. I don't know if this is a guy thing or if Charlie is abnormally obsessed. Just as I don't know if he really likes my breasts or just breasts in general. My breasts are average sized and unremarkable. But Charlie loves staring at them and touching them and kissing them and I don't complain because I enjoy the shivering, tingly feeling I receive in return.

"Do you feel better?" I ask Charlie when he moves off of me and we're facing each other again. By now Charlie's also removed his shirt and both our brows are sweaty. My lips ache from too much kissing.

Charlie's breathing heavily and grins. "I feel great," he replies, then his grin drops off, like he's suddenly realized his life is more than just make out sessions with me. "Oh. Maybe I don't feel so great after all," he says. "It was nice to forget for awhile."

"Lay back," I tell him, giving his chest a gentle push.

"Why?" he asks.

"Just do it," I order, giving him another little push.

Charlie obeys and lays flat on his back, watching me with questioning eyes. I thought about this in the kitchen when Charlie had that pathetic, lost look. Now that I'm a fast girl, it won't hurt to go a little faster. I flex my fingers a few times, stalling as I gather courage. My right hand moves toward Charlie, hesitates, and pulls back slightly. It's probably like removing a band-aid and I need to plunge right in and do it. Charlie's watching me, confused when I finally reach out and take hold of the waistband of his khakis. I pull the zipper down and quickly undo the button.

Charlie's eyes grow wide. "What are you doing?" he cries, sitting partway up, his hands flying to his zipper.

"What do you think?" I demand.

"Are you _serious_?"

"Of course!" I exclaim. I'm pretty sure I was actually going to do it.

Charlie buttons and zips his pants, looking rather panicked. "Oh my God," he says, "You're only fourteen!"

"That wasn't a problem a few minutes ago when you had my breast in your mouth," I snap.

Charlie's cheeks turn pink. "That's different, Dawn. I could get arrested for this. Making out is one thing. But going further, that's probably contributing to the delinquency of a minor or something. You're only fourteen, Dawn."

"Would you stop saying that?" I retort, my irritation building. "Besides, I'm fourteen and a _half_. I'll be fifteen at the start of February. Your age doesn't bother _me_. If mine bothers you so much, why don't you go find a non-minor to mess around with?"

Charlie falls silent and runs his fingers through his mussed brown hair. "Because I like you," he says, simply.

"I like you, too," I reply, my irritation fading.

Charlie and I stare at each other for awhile. I suddenly feel self-conscious and exposed sitting on my bed in nothing but a pair of faded jean shorts. I fold my arms over my bare breasts.

"You shouldn't worry so much about our age difference, Charlie. It doesn't bother me," I tell him, which is sort of a lie. It does bother me. At least sometimes. A little. "No one will know. It's not like I'm eager to broadcast this all over Stoneybrook. You're not going to be arrested, Charlie. We're not doing anything wrong."

"Sometimes four years seems like a lot," Charlie admits. "And sometimes it doesn't."

"I know. But maybe liking each other is enough," I say, brushing some hair out of my face.

"I don't want to take advantage of you, Dawn," Charlie says and when I open my mouth to protest, continues, "I know you don't see it like that, but I don't want to do anything either of us will regret. We hardly even know each other."

And here I thought all teenage boys were driven solely by hormones. I don't need Charlie pulling this big brother stuff on me. I just want to have fun. I just want there to be something good in my Stoneybrook life. I hold my arms a bit tighter around my breasts, wondering if Charlie would feel the same way if I were seventeen or eighteen. He puts too much emphasis on age.

I unfold my arms and reach for my bra on the floor. It's pale pink lace, the nicest one I own, and I wore it just for Charlie. I slip it on and struggle to clasp the hooks. "You're so uptight, Charlie," I tell him. "It's not like I was trying to have sex with you. It was just a hand job. Hand jobs are no big deal. All the girls give them," I say, pulling my t-shirt over my head, even though I know that's not true. I don't believe those words when I say them just like I didn't believe them two months ago when Sunny said them after I caught her and Maggie giving hand jobs to a couple ninth graders during Ellen Bliemer's graduation party. But I say them just the same, so Charlie won't guess at how nervous and inexperienced I really am. Secretly, I'm relieved he doesn't expect that of me. And still, part of me is offended he doesn't want that from me.

"I'm not uptight," Charlie protests, tugging his polo shirt over his head. "I'm just not ready to go that far. It's nothing personal, Dawn."

I lay back down on the bed. I almost turn my back to him, like wives do on t.v., but that seems unnecessarily cold and I'm not really mad at Charlie, or even too disappointed. It would be wrong to be angry with him for not wanting something I was unsure I even wanted to give.

"You're right, Charlie," I say, turning my head to look up at him. "I don't know what comes over me sometimes."

Charlie grins and lays down, facing me. I love his smile. "Understandable," he says. "Charlie Thomas is irresistible to the ladies."

I roll my head back and laugh. "Oh, yes, that _must_ be it. You're really beating them off with a stick. That's why you're picking up your little sister's ex-friends in music stores."

Charlie looks surprised. "Are you and Kristy really ex-friends?" he asks.

I turn onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow. I shrug. "I don't know. I guess so. I've only seen her once since I got back. She didn't even ask me to re-join the BSC or anything. So, I guess we're not friends anymore."

"You know, the BSC isn't that active these days. They only meet twice a week now. Jessi quit last month and Mallory didn't re-join when she came back from boarding school. Kristy still babysits a lot though,"

"So does Mary Anne. She and _Melissa_," I say, a bit more bitterly than I intend. "You know more about the BSC than I do." I laugh, even though it's not really funny.

"Did you ask to re-join?"

"I'm not going to _beg_, Charlie. I won't give them the satisfaction,"

Charlie frowns, but doesn't say anything. I don't want him to frown. I want him to smile. He reaches out and caresses my cheek. It's an unexpected gesture, even though he's done it before. It makes me a little sad, but I'm not sure why.

"Is this all we ever talk about, Charlie? Stepfathers and ex-friends?" I ask, in a lighter tone than I feel. I swing my right leg over him, so that I straddle his hips. I'm sick of talking about the things that suck the life out of us. I lean down and kiss him softly on the mouth. It's a different sort of kiss than our earlier ones, sweeter and more satisfying, not so eager and desperate. I tighten my knees around Charlie's hips as his tongue glides over my bottom lip into my mouth. I think Charlie and I could stay like this forever. A hot, tingly feeling washes over my body as my mind clouds and spins. I forget everything else. There's nothing except me and Charlie, no worries, no disappointments, no loneliness. No anything.

* * *

"You're sneaking out at night," Mary Anne says to me after dinner. We're in the kitchen, washing the dishes. We haven't spoken all night. I'm not really speaking to anyone anymore. I know it hurts Mom, but she should have thought of that before attempting to make me live by Richard's ridiculous rules.

"Oh, am I?" I reply, coolly, setting a plate on the drying rack.

"Yes, you are. You're sneaking out through the secret passage. I heard the door shut last night when I was walking to the bathroom. I went to the window and saw you running across the yard toward the street. You're seeing someone, aren't you? Who is he and why are you hiding him?"

"It's none of your business, Mary Anne," I tell her, grabbing a still soapy plate from her hand. I run it under the cold water myself.

"I won't tell," Mary Anne promises.

I snort and turn off the faucet.

Mary Anne huffs and scrubs hard at a pot. "Look," she says, irritation creeping into her voice. "I didn't know you lied to Sharon the other night. If you'd told me, I would have covered for you. But I didn't know. Sharon came into my room, asking about Sue Archer. How was I supposed to know to lie? You never tell me anything anymore, Dawn."

"Is that so?"

Mary Anne scowls and shakes her hair back. It's grown out to an awkward, slightly unmanageable length just below her chin. "Tell me who you're seeing. You're hiding him for a reason. Are you embarrassed or is he someone you shouldn't be dating?" Mary Anne asks, then pales a bit. "It's not Logan is it?"

"I don't need your sloppy seconds," I snap.

"Who is he then?" she demands, wiping her soapy hands on a towel.

"It's killing you, isn't it?" I reply, tossing my dish towel at her. I turn and leave without another word.


End file.
